Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
If I had a choice between playing a new Xbox360 game and playing an all time classic like Streets of Rage 2, I would of course pick the Xbox360. When I got bored with that I would bust out my emulator, sync up with my brother Rick and play the hell out of some SoR2. Oh hell yes we would!
Streets of Rage 2 was by far the best and greatest, nay the pinnacle of the brawler “beat em up” style game. Double Dragon, the Ninja Turtles games, Bad Dudes – all the rancid dog-doodie on bottom of SoR2’s boots.
If you don’t believe me then it’s clear that you haven’t played this game. Yes it’s that good, so good that if you disagree then your opinion is literally wrong. Dealing with that kind of extremity is what playing this game is all about. Why only yesterday I was a mere lad and I stole this title from my friend, I somehow convinced him that he “lost it.” *snortle* Used to hook that bad boy up and play with my brother all through the night.
Now this is the best and most important part of the game. This is what makes the game most worthwhile, and why it’s a testament to Japanese perversion. Choose the character Blaze, the hot brunet with the great gravity defying rack. Make her do her cartwheel kick and pause just as her legs are at a 90 degree angle. UNDERWEAR!!!! Purty pink panties! Old Mary Jane Rotten-crotch! BOOYAH! Is what you would say if you were like 13, which I was at the time.
Now there is no reason for you to play this game. 
Provided you were able to make it past the 1st level and all the panty-peekabooing, you were in for a lush beautiful 2D rendered world of punks, hookers, fat guys with chains, motorcycles from Beyond Thunderdome and Mr. X. The game progresses from left to right standard 2D side scrolling action, with the occasional diagonal right-down and an elevator scene or two. The colors are gorgeous and the characters look really defined for a 16 bit game.
Story-wise you’re out you rescue Adam, the black dude from SoR1. He’s been kidnapped by that rascal Mr. X. You got a couple friends to come along for the ball-breakery, including Adams kid brother Skate, and a gigantic wrestler named Max. You go from scene to scene kicking ass and chewing bubble gum, even though you’re ALL OUT OF BUBBLEGUM BABY! This game packs so much punch that in order to keep up with demand for ass kickery, Sega had to import cheap colons from Mexico. Unfortunately the colons were of such a sub-par quality from all the chipotle blood stains, they soon had to switch to Indian suppliers… much better quality even if they smell like curried goat.
If they made a video game version for that song “Old Time Rock N Roll” then it would be this game. If you are a 16 bit Sega aficionado this is a title that belongs in your collection.
Popularity: 20% [?]
You know why the video games of yesteryear are better than the games today? Simplicity. I find myself taking frequent breaks from the overly polished games of today to play my old Sega Genesis or NES. After all, why watch hours of rendered cut scenes in Resident Evil 5 or Rise of the Argonauts when I can jump on turtle shells, fall into never ending pits of doom or kill vampires in luscious 2D side scroll-ers? Games made more sense back then. They were simple – shoot bubbles at enemies, pop them, eat the crystals or cakes they drop and keep going until you rescue your sexy dragon-woman girlfriend. SO SEXY! Easy, right? Who wants to play a game where you are the dream of a dead race that might have existed inside of someone’s imagination? Is that plot confusing? That’s how I felt when I played Final Fantasy VIII.
You may be wondering what I am getting at, let me be direct – the games of today suck compared to my biased nostalgia of games like Mario 3, the Adventure of Link, and Bubble Bobble. And it is with love for those old time classics that I am going to pay tribute to one of the best RPG games I ever played: Sword of Vermillion.
*FANFARE*
I can clearly remember when I was 7 or 8 busting my ass, and possibly some child labor laws cutting grass, raking leaves, and shoveling snow to come up with enough dough to buy a Turbo Graphics 16 game system. I reeeeallllly wanted Bonks Adventure because the commercial was so awesome. My Nintendo Entertainment System while great and having well over 200 titles on my basement floor, was no longer cutting it. and the next generation of video gaming had begun, 16 bits! Well there we were, pops took me to the local Toy Works and I had 160 dollars. He said “What do you want?” At the time I couldn’t remember the name Bonk so I was trying to explain “The game with the guy with the giant head!” No one understood… oh the life of an introverted child.
What I ended up leaving with, very accidentally, was Sega Genesis. And how!
The 1st game I bought for it was Sword of Vermillion, the guy told me it was like the Legend of Zelda. In retrospect he should be tortured for lying to such a sweet young boy as I was. Be that as it may, the selection was quite limited, the Sega Genesis was still pretty new – they were still running the “Genesis DOES! What Ninten-don’t” ad campaign on TV and on the kiosk in the store.
Sword of Vermillion, how I love thee. How clever I thought I was naming my Character “Billya.” My name, in case you didn’t get it, is Billy… but when you’re 8 adding the “A” on there was a clever way of pretending my name could sound like it came from fantasy antiquity.
SoV was an awesome game and tough as shit for someone my age, not so much today. It’s an RPG of sorts that used a weird overhead mini-map system when moving around and had plenty of randomly spawning monsters. In battle it was kind of like the legend of Zelda in that it was real action, of course the similarities ended there. In the boss fights (masters as we called them a hold over from our days watching “Captain N and the Game Masters”) it was side scrolling real time action. There was no real strategy per say, but tell that to a kid who is struggling with his multiplication tables.
Father? NOOOOOOOOO!!!111oneone
The plot is this: Our adventurer Billya is called to his dying father (or so he thought) Blade. Blade tells you that your real father was King Erik of Excalibra. He and his long time friend and ally Tsarkon the King of Carpathia were collecting the 16
rings of the gods. 8 good and 8 evil. Of course, like the dumbshits they were, they started with the rings of evil first and wouldn’t you know it Tsarkon turned into a total douche, he killed Erik, crushed Excalibra and decided to go after the rest of the rings. To anyone paying attention you might be wondering if the rings of good would have made him become neutral. Well… they don’t. Anyway, Blade escapes with you apparently as a baby along with the Ring of Wisdom. (which is a ring of good). Blade tells you to go and get it from a cave and begin your quest of ruining Tsarkon’s shit.
Did I? Hell yeah I did. I busted some skeleton ass in that cave, got my ring and traveled on. You pretty much travel the mini map to different locations, each harder than the last. You go to a kingdom, meet a king and he either tries to kill you, send you on an errand or both. Eventually you get a ring of good from him. One king was a total cock though: The King of Swiftham, a dirty, greedy, bastard. If he represented a real life person I bet he would run a Cumberland Farms convenience store with 10 dollar potatoes and 2 dollar 8 oz sodas and be the only one open late the night before Thanksgiving. Well he makes you go to 3 separate caves to get 3 gems for him. 3! Eventually he gives up the ring not out of kindness though. I think a size 11 boot print on his ass did the job. In another town a little girl meets you on the road and you help her out. It turns out she is a giant 2 headed fire tossing demon. You own her ass like a total pimp and she gives you a spell book of healing. BONUS!
In time you make your way to Excalibra and meet an old dude who tells you more of the game’s back story, then fueled by the rage of some unknown guy killing the father you never met you go to Carpathia. There’s a hot princess who totally wants your package there so in my head I imagined getting it on with her before heading off to take on Tsarkon. He is in a cave, (Obviously) however his area is locked, and in order to get to him you have to fight EVERY boss you fought previously all over again to get their keys to gain access. *Facepalm*
In the final battle, like all evil weenies, he offers you his hand in partnership despite the fact that it’s crammed with 8 evil rings and he’s the guy who killed your daddy. You say “NO! NO YOU BEAST I WILL DESTROY YOU!” At least that’s what I was yelling at the TV. And take him on in mortal combat. 2 men enter, 1 man leaves! Guess who? ME. That’s right bitch! Then I traveled back to Carpathia for some sweet sweet loving in the tender hands of the princess. YES! The end! You are my hero!
Anyway, I still sneak off from World of Warcraft, Halo or whichever of today’s games to find solace of reliving the fantasy in the world of Sword of Vermillion. The game is easy by today’s standards, but goddamn what a sweet escape.
Popularity: 14% [?]
Empty trees, hibernating in the winter season, bare and grim like a skeletons ribs. We once played in verdant lush summers, as a family BBQ, Mesquite, fires, s’mores, baseballs, bocci and laughter. All things draw to an end, including youthful daisy chains and the joy we once felt. But as I walked through the lawn, icy snow crunching under my boots I remembered a thousand memories of my loved ones living the life we were given and the steps we had taken. Gone to oblivion now, never to return until the next generation replaces us, but what have we lost? Is it so wrong to shed a tear for what will never again be? Tasseled hair, and fragrant lilac blooms gliding on a cool spring breeze, fathers garden, earthy and rich, the dirt flipped and prepared for the summers growing, peppers, tomatoes and basil. My brothers, my little brothers playing horseshoes and growing like grape vines, every day stronger, and larger. Once fitting in my hands like a baguette of fleshy tendrils and limbs. My heart deceives me and relieves me of fanciful logic, and the tears roll effortlessly for the loss I am mourning, of our youth and our family crumbling like yesterdays Halloween pumpkins, only to birth a patch of green herbs in its place. I’ve lost them all to time, and now home in my bed, fanciful and remorseful for being a weaker man, I cannot make end meet properly and tie up all the loose ends. This side of exile, meager and wanting, but prideful and painful. Self imposed and liberty prone, I cannot tie up all the loose ends. And so portion of my heart shed, I bury it here in my fathers garden, childish things I put to bed. Walking the colorless streets, the clouds swirl and blow angry stinging cold winds at my face, tears like dew dry and freeze to my skin, all is gone that I loved and now I am alone and looking for meaning. If not in the bottle or joint or writing or vagina then nowhere, life has not meaning, never had a meaning, childish things must be put to bed. Everyday I am learning, all my life I have only been pretending, living for what I was told and not appreciating what was in my hands. Taking these lessons in stride, offends me, it wounds my pride, and I turn towards bitterness but the feelings, the long standing feelings wash ashore in seas of lamentation.
Popularity: 13% [?]
As such I will not be joining your cult Global Warmingists! Ohhh you thought this blog was going to be apolitical did you? Well you are right, it is. Global Warming isn’t a political issue. Its a faux religious one. The next nugget of ass-tard-er-y that insists my Mustang is going to cause hell on earth is going to get a size 11 boot in his pooper. Thats right I said “HIS” Take that ardent feminists!
Half man, Half bear, half pig!
I just don’t understand how so many people can be scammed so completely into believing that MMGW is a fact. Anyone who decides to do a little research on the issue sees zounds evidence that GW is caused by the sun and issues outside of our control. Don’t tell that to the people who insist that your enjoyment of insidious contraptions like flush toilets, electricity and the combustion engine are damning us all to hell on earth. They might decide to teach you a lesson by protesting in front of your meager house, leaving tons of trash and waste products behind… you know all in the name of green peace!
When I see the cult of GW (CGW) trying to use the gub’mint to pass restrictive legislation that would destroy our standard of living just so they can go home to their untouched mansions (its ok they use carbon credits!) It makes me think of that scene in Monty Python where they are trying to burn a Witch. Its the same religious zeal based on emotional un-rationalizations to force their religious beliefs on others. They are no better than the Farting Preacher and the guys who want to Tithe you for all your worth. I EVEN get these people coming to my door early on a Saturday morning looking to have people sign a petition (pages long of paper by the way) to stop this from being built and that from being constructed etc etc. Its absurd. What I would give to just have regular ole Evangelists come to my door instead and tell me I am going to hell for real sins, like sex, masturbation and shooting people. No no, now I get these pale skinned pinkos accusing me of murdering children I haven’t ejaculated into a woman yet by using a push mower instead of a scythe or scissors. What about my freedom from religion? Where the fuck is the ACLU on that one huh?!
Anyway. Heres the deal; for every mile you people walk to save the Earth I am going to drive 2 in my mustang. For every animal you don’t eat to save the whales I will order an extra burger. And when the CGW finally manages to assume control and destroy freedom and democracy as we know it, I will just opt out and buy some Carbon Credits, after all like most religions the Global Warming Cult is just a way to get money from my pocket into theirs.
I am loading my shotgun and Glock by the way. Just thought I would let you all know.
Popularity: 18% [?]
My brow glistened, shrink wrapped in a veil of sweat, “its august 4th” today I thought my nieces are being born and I am terrified. Terrified that my family will reject me, that I will be turned away from the hospital, that I would be excluded from the things that truly mattered to me. And I feel the detachment, the floating sense of intuition, judging, judging, analyzing, all. The moat of my psyche is its draw bridge drawn? Will I let them in if they did accept me, and wasn’t it funny how that was even more terrifying? Then what would I do? I just want to see my nieces, I just want, no need desperately for them to matter to me, to know my heart can hook into them and anchor itself to the notion of true family. It boils down to me never getting excited, never getting attached to anything except the rocks of my life, can I bring them in, can I do it immediately or do I have to pretend? I am so tired of pretending, the wellspring of my patience has dried up and I am so very tired of caring for other idiots little worlds. But this matters, this is my flesh, I want to be there and I want to be an uncle, In fact I want to be a great uncle, whatever that means. I know Colby will handle the true fatherly stuff, but, and I love him he is not the most intelligent man alive… He doesnt understand things, will he let me share my gifts with them? Or will he draw a line? I know they are only mine through my brother and sister in law, but will they allow me to have a personal loved relationship with them? To teach them help them grow into strong beautiful young intelligent and most importantly confident and competant women. I just want to protect them from all the genuine horrors life can offer, from the pain and hurt I felt. I was able to take it, and I want them to be strong enough to take it too, but I dont want them to experience that. How can I give them that? How can I give them that piece of myself and teach them to use that. I want them to have every advantage we never had. Every strength from Colbys charm and extravertedness to mine and Rickys silent resolve, force of will, and deepness of person. Shit the phone rang.
Popularity: 15% [?]
So smooth, I rub my foot down her calf, I cant believe how smooth her legs are. She is so beautiful. This is so wrong, so immoral, so illegal.
“What are you thinking now?” Brenda asks softly into my ear. A smile curling up slightly in the corners of her full lips.
“I don’t know…” I say.
Her eyes strain to meet mine, I look away. I know she wants me, I know she loves me, I love her too I think… but I cant say it. I’m locked away.
“Are you ok? you are being sort of quiet…” the smile is gone now, she is being serious.
My mind scrambles to find the “correct” answer to disengage this thought process. I don’t know what I’m doing, this is too new for me. I don’t even know what I feel, mostly confusion.
“I’m just tired.” Such a stupid and unsatisfying answer.
“But, you have to be thinking something. Are you sure you are ok with this?” She says through pout-y lips I feel her heart tremble beneath her breasts, she is deeply worried I am going to hurt her. I am going to hurt her.
“I’m fine…”
She rubs her hand across my chest and tousles the soft dark hairs, her deep tawny complexion jags across my flesh, in contrast it looks beautiful. I am entranced by her beauty, her heart, her age…
Her head comes to rest on my stomach, it rises and falls rhythmically, she is staring into my face now, I accidentally catch her eyes and we lock on for a moment. My heart stops.
“What do you want out of all this Brenda?” I ask solemnly. She lifts her head and climbs up onto her arms and they straddle my chest. She comes in very close, I can feel her breath on my lips, it smells like tangerine lip gloss. She mouths the words without making a sound. I… Want… You. On “you” she points to my heart.
I feel so awkward, I am just learning to be my own man for the 1st time in my life. I know I want to be near her, I want to continue be with her, but I just cannot bring myself to give in, and I don’t know why. I don’t know myself well enough to give anything away. My beautiful Jamaican princess. I could go to prison for her age a 100 times over, my mind races with a million possibilities, I turn my head to look at the clock.
“I have to take you home now, its late”
She silently nods and gets up to dress. My chest feels heavy, it feels betrayed. I betrayed myself again.
Popularity: 7% [?]
I wrote this last night to a girl I had been seeing. She is an INFJ. We were going strong, REALLY strong briefly an we clicked well and had chemistry and then I messed it all up by going AWOL on her because I couldn’t handle it at that point in my life. I was looking for a girlfriend when I should have been looking for a booty call to get over my Ex… anyway What do you other INFJs especially female INFJs think of this letter? I havent spoken to her in almost 2 months. Feedback would be appreciated.
I know that I am probably the last person you wanted to hear from or expected to. And right about now I am sure you are wondering why the hell this douche is emailing you. Let me explain; basically I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry for what I did to you, and that I apologize for being a cunt. I know this is a day late and a dollar short and I am certain you hate me. That’s fine. I can take that, its what I deserve. I would feel the same I think. Anyway What I did to you was unforgivable of course, but I have been thinking about it and its been eating away at me. Which is probably why I am writing this at 4AM 2 hours before I am supposed to be at work. Anyway I wont excuse what I did to you but you are entitled if anything for your curiosity to know why I was an asshole. I accept full responsibility for my actions and why I did what I did. Essentially I sort of freaked out. I had a string of bad things happen to me around that time and shortly after, but that’s nothing.
Really the reason I did it was because as I said I freaked out. I had just come out of a long long relationship with a woman who basically destroyed me. I was still a little fucked up from that when we started to get to know one an other. Not fucked up enough that I couldn’t be honest, I was honest with you right up until I flipped out and went AWOL. But I was worried mainly that I was getting into another relationship WAAAY too fast without properly healing. I blame myself for this, I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong, and in the process I included you in my dysfunction and I hurt you. For that I am deeply ashamed of myself and deeply sorry. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt somebody, lest of all a woman whom I felt was really clicking with me on levels I had never felt before. I wanted to let you know that that was real. And after you had told me you were an INFJ is sort of what sparked the beginning of my meltdown.
It seemed too good to be true, too impossible to happen to me. That I would be so lucky. As you might have noticed by now I have a slight penchant for self destruction, it hasn’t been a major factor in my life really, but I was thinking about this stuff earlier and I cant believe how insensitively foolish I had acted. Long story short I panicked and cut you off in an attempt to return to my “safety zone” which is really quite ridiculous. I let a really great catch go. And not telling you this when you asked to know the truth was utter cruelty on my part. Again I am truly sorry. I have never done that to someone before, well to be honest I have never really ever broken it off with anyone, so I am not experienced with that. Not an excuse, I know, please don’t think I am excusing myself, I’m not. I am prepared to swallow this guilt, Ive been swimming in it. And its gotten me to the point where I am losing sleep over it. So here I am, its 4:11 AM and I just wanted to tell you what happened and that I am sorry. If you choose to delete this and write me off, I will understand. I will accept your anger and hatred and chalk it up to my idiocy. But I thought you deserved to know how I felt, I didn’t want you to think I was some asshole player, because that is not me. I had a really good time talking to you and I thought you were a very intelligent and intuitive person. In fact, I was sort of awed by your ability to know as much shit as I do, that is not normal for me to meet a woman who can keep me on my toes like that.
Anyway, again, oceans of apologies truly I hope you could find it in your heart to at least not despise me for the fool I was. I hope you find a great guy who will treasure you and treat you like the jewel you are. Thats just what I wanted to tell you.
Popularity: 8% [?]
Down to the Green Dragon,
I’m getting nice and clean.
At the temple of the dragon,
they sell Buddhist beads.
There is a temple in the Dragon,
jealously kept by an earthen creek.
Swept moist by summer mops,
and patted dry by children’s feet.
Turn your eyes from the hungry,
the starving and the maimed.
Its easy to light your incense
or count beads while you pray.
Down to the Green Dragon
under lazy willow trees.
I lost my heart in China
with peasants on their knees.
Popularity: 7% [?]
Pardon my morosity, but what’s everyone got to be so happy about? Yeah yeah, you got married, you got a raise, and you found the Tao or some phenomenally Zen thing to vibrate your emotional clitoris to, wonderful, good for you. Me? I ain’t one for the smacking govoreeting of bipolar dopamine and white knuckled adrenaline that is the human experience. I sit back coolly calculating the situation in a quiet madness that roars louder than the fiercest Herculean lion, but only in my own unmarried ears. It’s deafening, it goes rrrrrrriiiiinnnnngggggg, like you just got out of an extra loud concert with giant testicle shrinking sub woofers. Yup, make no mistake about it, the black hole of my sullen gaze, reaches into every corner of the great hereafter, it reflects an abashed jealousy of accomplishments which send me seething red, red and red like the poor skin of a medieval Lucifer himself, chained unfairly to the fetid underbelly of the world. Steamy vexed miasma puffs from my cheeks like a common Frenchman casually cancer-ing his life in his latent urban socialist shithole. Each wisp choking me and those around me, poisoning the well stream of relationships which could… should be cultivated, but instead I ravage, what with my being a Mongolian scourge.
Who’s really to say why, history is a cheap filthy whore, she gives toothy head and leaves you with a take home gift, put it on my tab. Herpes or Hepatitis B. “Thankyouverymuch”. All I know is that I want each and every single one of you to fail so I can feel better. And before I let my knavish poltroon of a conscience stifle this hot sticky load of realism I want to extend my deepest “fuck you” to everyone I love and cherish. You keep me anchored to this temporal reality of shit, love handles, and mortality. If it weren’t for you, to steal a phrase maybe I could have shuffled loose, the mortal coil. Instead, I stay to make you worry, to stare aghast as I deconstruct myself internally. A big extended “fuck you” indeed. Hows that for my weak verbose endings?
Popularity: 6% [?]
“What did you do this weekend?”
My teacher asked the class, most of my classmates did the usual 6 year old stuff, caught frogs and turtles, played with their barbies, went to Disney land. As her gaze circled the room closer and closer to me, I felt my pulse begin to race, and my heart thumped against tiny ribs. Each classmate closer to my turn I felt another dab of sweat, my Mr T. shirt sticking to my flushed June skin, it was so hot.
“We went to Marinellis for my sisters wedding it was beauuuuutiful” Amanda said, I hated Amanda and her perfect little life… please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me. My mind raced over and over again, please…please don-
“Billy, what did you do this weekend?”
Silence, silence… my mind is a blank, what do I say?
“Billy?”
“Umm… I don’t want to talk about it.” I say, my throat dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.
Classmates cold stares, what a fucking weirdo… I can feel their minds beating against me, I can hear them laughing inside. I want to cry, why do I have to do this?
“Billy, its show and tell, you have to tell us what you did this weekend. Its ok, just tell us.”
Her smile was wicked and I see it flick across her narrow face like an evil Jack O’ Lantern, I lower my head and begin to sob. How does a 6 year old explain that he spent the weekend getting drugs for his mother at his friends fathers crack-house? How do you put that into words? That Dad left with his other wife and I have no friends. How do you explain that? That the tall guy who lived next door made me touch his penis behind his housing unit, stop I can’t say this stuff…
“I played with my GI Joes…” wiping tears away, drying my eyes and sitting down with my face buried in secrets and forearms.
“See? thats fun, she chirped in her ignorance, you don’t have to be so shy Billy”
She came over and rubbed my back, then whispered in my ear that if I wanted to talk to her we could go into the hall. I shake my head no, I cant talk.
“I’m ok”
“Jose, what did you do this weekend?” She moved forward
“My family went fishing, I caught a turtle!”
Popularity: 6% [?]
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